“Cannot the feare of Ioue’s immortall hate,
Your mother’s teares, nor woefull wailings moue?
Nor naked brests you suckte your malice slacke?
Nor cause t’imbrace the sacred lore of loue?
O euerlasting Ioue that liu’st aboue!
Then I protest ere you doe fight the feelde this day,
You shall in field (vngratefull sonnes) your woefull mother slay.
30.
“Betweene you both you shall bereaue my life,
What woes (my sonnes) aliue shall I sustaine,